Shattered Pieces
by ree-phoenix
Summary: Haunted by her past, Effie Trinket agrees to move to District 12 to stay with Haymitch Abernathy, her long time partner and frenemy. The dynamics have shifted between the two though, and something new is in the air as they help each other down the road to recovery. Can the two put aside their differences long enough to be together or do old habits die hard?
1. Chapter 1

**I will go down with this ship! Hayffie. 3**

**Disclaimer (only one): The Hunger Games series, concept, characters, etc. belong to Suzanne Collins and any other respectable owners, myself not being one. I wrote this work of fanfiction for fun. I did not, nor will I, receive any form of proffit for it. **

Haymitch was running through a forrest, knife at the ready. The long cut across his left cheek stung, but his swollen, broken ankle hurt worse. He reminded himself to ignore the pain. He needed to find shelter and quickly.

A loud, high-pitched scream of terror and pain pierced the air around him. Who ever it was was near by, and that meant whatever was causing her to scream was near too.

No. That scream didn't belong in the arena.

Effie... The scream belonged to Effie Trinkett.

Haymitch threw himself out of bed and was on his feet in an instant, bounding across the hall and throwing open the door without knocking.

The sight in front of him broke his heart, but he had to push past that. He had a duty to look after her, to wake her, to keep her safe. He promised himself to do that after she was taken captive by the Capitol nearly a year ago. He still blamed himself, positive that he could've gotten her to District 13 before they had got to her, when in reality this was wrong. At least if he wanted to revolt.

Sometimes logic doesn't matter though.

"Effie, Effie, Princess. Come on, wake up," he said firmly, shaking her shoulders.

She began sobbing.

"Please stop. I don't know where they are, I swear," she cried, still asleep.

She let out another scream.

"Effie!" He pleaded, shaking her harder. "Effie, please wake up," he said, pulling her up towards him.

"Ef-"

She opened her eyes, and attempted to push Haymitch off of her.

"Just me, just me," he said, pulling the sobbing, ex-escort towards him, something he'd had never have dreamt of doing when he met her 10 years ago.

She threw her arms around his neck and began to cry into his chest. He didn't say a word, just laid next to her, still hugging her, and stroking his now dearest friend's blonde waves.

Effie began to breathe slower and easier as she leaned on her best friend. She could hear his steady heart beat and feel his calloused hands, one playing with her hair, the other firmly on her small back.

"Don't leave..." she mumbled, feeling pathetic. She was positive that after months of being free from the Capitol's torture that she'd be fine.

"I won't," he replied, not skipping a beat in what he knew would put her into a deep slumber. Effie's hair was like her off switch.

They remained silent for awhile, Haymitch continuing with his routine without complaint.

" 'aymitch..."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?" He asked, genuinly baffled.

"For being my best friend," she answered weakly before closing her eyes and falling asleep.

Haymitch smiled sadly.

"Thanks for bein' mine."

He laid there for a few more hours before he was postive that Effie wasn't waking again until the morning. He hated seeing her like that. She was supposed to be happy, obnoxious, optomistic, ignorant, and completely unbearable. She was broken now, and it was all his fault, he was sure of it. Now he had to fix her.

He dragged himself back across the hall, his feet sinking comfortably into the spotless carpet. Before Effie moved in, he begged Katniss and Peeta to help him scrub down his home. Well, he begged Katniss. Peeta agreed to help Haymitch before he was finished with his sentence.

He remembered the night that Effie came like it was yesterday. His face was clean shaven, he had on a clean shirt, and it was tucked into his trousers. His shoes were polished, and so was the floor under them. He hadn't had a drink in 48 hours, wanting to be perfectly sober when she arrived. He didn't understand why at the time, just that he owed it to her. Katniss dawdled on her way out the door, letting Peeta go ahead of her before turning around to talk to Haymitch.

"If you're going to do this, you've got to be sober for it. I know you're not going to want to, but that's what needs to be done. Do you've got that?" She said bluntly and earnestly, looking him dead in the eye.

He didn't reply. He didn't need to. She'd left as soon as she'd said it.

He knew it was true though, and he'd kept to his word for the most part.

As far as Effie knew anyway.

Two weeks after her arrival, he'd had to wake her from a similar situation as he'd found her in tonight. However, it was new to him and ten times worse as it was still new for her too.

After tucking her back in, he'd walked sullenly downstairs and into the kitchen, slightly in shock. Effie, his ignorant, strong-willed partner was broken. Broken beyond repair. She was wizened, fragile, and his Effie was gone.

He headed for the refridgerator, and grabbed the liquor bottle out of the back. Without hesitation, the bottle pressed against his lips, and he tilted his head back. Before long, he was beligerantly drunk. He couldn't get the broken woman out of his head.

And that was when Haymitch Abernathy did the unthinkable- he cried. He hadn't cried in 25 years.

Unbeknownst to him, Effie wasn't asleep. He hadn't realized that even though she had changed, one thing hadn't- her manners. She couldn't sleep without telling Haymitch thank you, heading across the hall to his empty bedroom. She walked curiously down the stairs and turned into the kitchen quietly, leaning against the door frame.

Haymitch's head was laid on the table, his shoulders shaking violently as ghastly sounds escaped his lips.

Effie rushed to him, pressing a delicate hand on his shoulder.

"Hey now," she said, knealing down next to the chair, keeping her hand on him, "tell me what's wrong," she ordered in sincere concern.

He stood up and she followed suit, barely reaching his shoulder.

"Nothin's wrong, woman," he said roughly, thoroughly embarassed. "Go back to bed," he ordered, pointing the bottle of liquor towards the stairs.

She looked at him, first in envy, then in angry determination. She was sick of his drinking, sick of his avoidance when it came to any humanity, sick of his broken promises, both to himself and to others. She knew all about his promise to Katniss, and she'd be damned if he was breaking it again.

She roughly grabbed the bottle out of his hands before hurling it into the sink, causing it to shatter into a thousand sparkly pieces as the poison poured down the drain.

"Enough," she said before turning her back on him and walking up the stairs.

It was one word, but he understood her perfectly.

No more drinking.

The present day Haymitch walked into his room, physically aching in helplessness. He sat down on the edge of the bed and roughly ran a hand through his hair, keeping his head in his hand. He stayed like that for a moment, deep in thought, before glancing over at his closet, an old hiding spot for his bad habit.

He looked down in shame before walking over to the closet door and rummaging through it before producing what he was searching for.

He cracked open the bottle and let himself sink.

Sunlight poured through Effie's window as she slowly rolled over and opened her eyes, causing her to smile. The smile soon disapated though as last night came rolling back to her, her eyes darkening. Haymitch had to come save her again. Save her from the shocks that were no longer wracked through her body. Save her from the knife that no longer slowly cut deep cuts across her body. Save her from the men that were no longer taking advantage of her fragile body.

Her small feet hit the cold, hard wood floor in her bedroom and immeadiatly shot back up. She took in the world around, still perched on her soft bed. By the set of the sun, it was a little after noon, causing her to wonder why Haymitch hadn't woken her. And on that note, where was he? He wasn't in her room, and she couldn't hear him rustling around anywhere else in the house either.

Ignoring the shock of the cold floor, she hopped down and walked across the hall, grateful for the carpeted hallway. She pressed her ear against the door and walked in when she didn't hear anyone.

The sight before her infuriated her. Haymitch was draped across his bed, drooling on the comforter. He had one half empty bottle of liquor in his hand, while two empty bottles were strewn haphazardly on the floor. She slammed the door shut and bounded down the stairs.

Haymitch shot up immediatly, grabbing his knife from under his pillow and throwing it at the door in one fluid movement before reality struck home. It was only Effie, he thought to himself begining to calm down before realizing why she slammed the door.

Effie's feet bounded down the stairs and she stormed into the kitchen, grabbing the coffee canister and begining to brew some. She couldn't believe he'd break his promise like that. Who was she kidding? Of course he broke his promise. He was Haymitch. Did she honestly expect anything different? Yes, part of her spoke up, deep from within her gut. She pushed the voice back. Stupid. So, so stupid.

Haymitch walked into the kitchen almost cautiously.

"'Morning, Princess," he said using her old nickname, sitting down gingerly at the kitchen table.

She ignored him.

"Sleep well?" He asked almost jokingly.

"I slept just fine, thank you," she said curtly, barely even managing to get her words out.

"Yeah... Me too. Like a baby," he smirked, knowing she was angry. He couldn't help it. If he handled it maturely he might give a damn.

"Yeah, so I saw. Tell me. How long have you been drinking again?"

"I still don't see how the alcohol that I concern is any of your business. Especially when you're the one that drove me to drink last night."

Tears sprang to her eyes and she slapped him hard across the face.

"Because we're supposed to be best friends, that's why," she said before storming out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

"I'm not your friend, Effie! Peeta Mellark's your friend!" He screamed after her, getting up gruffly and helping himself to some coffee.

**A/N Hey! How'd you like the first chapter? I'll update often. I have ideas for this story. I know I started off oddly, I just wanted to introduce the story and what's going on, even it was a little tense. Well, hope it's liked. Next chapter should be up quite soon. (: **


	2. Chapter 2

**Ugh, leave it to me to face palm on the first chapter. Obviously, I meant "consume" not "concern". Oh well, I'm sure you understood. Better attention this round.**

Effie didn't make it very far off of the porch before she realized that she was in her not-so-modest night gown. Embarrassed, though no one was around, she immediately turned back around and stormed up the stairs to change.

She was completely naked and rummaging around for a sun dress that would properly hide her scars before Haymitch barged in, causing her to scream and reach for her comforter, pulling the pink silk off the bed and quickly covering herself with it.

"HAYMITCH WILLIAM ABERNATHY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING BARGING IN HERE?"

"Shut up, it's not a new sight. Not very pleasing either, so don't let your head inflate any further," he said, referring to when he found her half starved to death, tortured, bleeding, broken, and very nude, crumpled in the corner of President Snow's basement. He immediately pushed the memory away as she flinched at it. He ignored the far away look in her blue eyes.

"What do you want?" She snapped. "I don't have any alcohol, so you may as well just go to The Hob."

"Look, you insufferable smart ass," he said, finger pointed at her face as he got in her face, his breath smelling of stale whiskey. "If I'm going to put up with your screaming and crying in your sleep _and _ your obnoxious attitude when you're awake, I'm going to at least need a drink every now and again. If you've got a problem with it, well too fucking bad. You're not my mother, you're not my wife, you're a guest in _my _home. If you're lucky, I'll tuck you in before I drown you out. If not, well tough luck!" He finished, waving his dirty, calloused finger past her now upturned button nose.

"Fine!" She screamed, her Capitol accent making him want to pull his sandy colored, chin length hair out, "But let's get one thing clear. You will not, nor will you ever, "tuck me in". I don't need you, you... you... ARROGANT FUCK!" She yelled, the curse word shocking her as much as it did him, his grey eyes as wide as quarters as hers narrowed into thin slits.

"Now, now, dear. Manners," he mocked her, before turning around and leaving, slamming the door behind him.

The rest of the day passed with the two avoiding each other, Effie not even bothering to come back down to make dinner, leaving Haymitch to his own devices for the first time since she arrived there. She constantly reminded herself that she didn't need him and that she could wait until he went to bed before eating. She fell asleep long before he did though, her angry tears putting her to sleep before she could even stop her eyelids from closing.

Haymitch was sitting in the living room, his mind elsewhere, bottle in hand when the screams started around three in the morning. He shifted on the dirty, tan couch uncomfortabley, taking a big swig from the bottle of whiskey he'd purchased at The Hob, per her reccommendation.

He ignored her for ten long, agonizing minutes, replaying their arguement over and over again in his head, purposefully leaving out the brief second of her nudity. He knew if he wanted to be successful in ignoring the wench he couldn't think of her that way.

"Haymitch," she cried, still sleeping. She sounded so scared, so desperate, stirring something inside of Haymitch.

"God, dammit," he said, running his fingers through his hair before gruffly getting up and dragging himself up the stairs.

He walked into her room and stopped to look at her, taking a swig from the bottle still in hand. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, the sleeves of his white button down shoved up to his elbows.

He kicked the bed frame.

"Wake up," he said loudly.

She stirred a little, but was still out like a light.

Well, at least now she's quiet, he thought, turning to walk out before she let out an ear shattering scream of pain before falling silent again.

_'I don't need you!' _He remembered her words, before spitefully storming out and slamming the door behind him.

He trudged back down the stairs, his boots leaving muddy marks in the carpet. He had every intention on walking into the living room and sitting back down. Instead, he didn't turn left as he had originally anticipated. He kept going straight, right out the front door, not even bothering to lock it behind him.

His feet carried him to The Hob before he even knew where they were taking him. It looked so different from before the uprisings, it still being rebuilt. It'd never be the same though. Even the feeling of it was different. It was legal now, taking away some of the appeal of strolling in there brashly.

Doesn't need me, he thought bitterly. Yeah, right. I'll show that ole basket case just how much she needs me, he thought, sitting down in front of Greasy Sae and ordering a jar of moonshine.

Greasy Sae handed him the old Mason after using her sleeve to wipe off some of the dust. He tilted the jar back, some of the burning liquid making its way into his system, some of it only pouring down the front of him. He could practically hear Effie's voice chastising him for his bad manners. Nagging wench.

He took the jar away from his face, his breath harsh and ragged.

"Evening, Haymitch," a familiar voice said from his right.

He turned his head to see Gale Hawthorne, identical jar in hand.

"Evening," he replied, shocked to see him in District 12 at all.

Gale didn't say anything, just took another sip of the liquid, clearly new at the concept of getting over someone.

"What brings you home?" Haymitch asked after fifteen minutes of uncomfortable silence.

"What do you think?" Gale asked harshly, young drunk man taking in the sight of the older one.

"Hmph. Just forget her. They're never worth it," Haymitch replied, his voice stoney.

"You'll never understand, Haymitch. Katniss... Well, that girl's my _best _friend..."

"Oh... Oh, I understand," Haymitch replied almost bitterly, thinking of a rather obnoxious blonde woman who was currently sleeping in his guest bedroom. "I understand completely," he sighed, taking another swig.

Gale looked away confused, but too uninterested to bother asking.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in forever. I had- correct that- have, a lot going on right now, but I found some free time and am locking myself in my room with my headphones on, and I'm going to write. So sorry. **

As with anything, Effie and Haymitch's fight came and went, and with a new day came a new page. However, that didn't mean that Haymitch was letting go of his quest to prove to Effie that she did need him, she needed him badly. Over the next six months, Haymitch continued to drink, continued to ignore her screams at night unless he kicked her bed to get her to stop, continued to pretend that he didn't give a damn, sometimes even convincing himself so. Effie continued to cook, clean, and ignore the fact that she wasn't getting any better. If anything she was getting worse, and quite progressively.

On one particular night, she even went as far as to get out of bed, walk downstairs, and try to hide from unexisting Peace Keepers behind the couch that Haymitch was laying on. He made sure to lock the door before going to bed.

Haymitch was stirring his coffee in their present day home, reaching behind him to grab his new golden whiskey, "making his coffee Irish" as his grandfather used to call it, getting the expression from his mother. Effie narrowed her eyes at this, but let it go.

"I have a date tonight, so you're on your own for dinner," she spoke up, now a rarity.

"Okay, Princess," he said, sipping his coffee.

He shoved a bite of pancakes in his mouth rather forcefully. Date. Who could she possibly be going on a date with?

They sat in uncomfortable silence for what seemed like hours, though they both knew it was closer to five minutes.

"So, who's the lucky guy?" He finally asked, not hiding the sarcasm in his voice.

"Well, if you _must _know-" she started.

"Oh, but I must," he mocked her Capitol accent, going as far as to flutter his eyelashes.

She shifted in her seat, his attitude annoying her.

"His name is Perceus Broker. He was the heir of a rather large department store chain in the Capitol before the rebellion."

"And now?" Haymitch asked, already not liking this guy.

"And now, he's just a semi-rich man who happens to be very handsome," she said, smiling into her coffee cup before taking a sip.

Haymitch clamped his hands over his ears. He couldn't take the noise of Effie and her date making their way up the stairs, her shushing him and letting out a breathey laugh. He heard the muffled sound of a door being opened, and soon a thump followed by Effie's traitorous giggling. He pressed his hands harder over his ears, not wanting to admit why it bothered him so much.

Ugh. Why should I be bothered? He thought grumpily. She told me earlier that she had a date, and she's a grown ass woman. Why shouldn't she bring him home?

Because it's _our _home that's why... Another voice argued.

Haymitch bounded out of bed and forced himself to keep walking past the jerk off who was with his Effie, and he made his way across Victor's Village.

He didn't know where he was going, only that he had to get out of there and quickly. He soon found himself at Katniss' doorstep, pounding on the door before letting himself in and slamming it behind him. Katniss was already in the kitchen, bow and arrow poised and ready to fire, by the time that he was demolishing her kitchen, searching for the alcohol that he knew she had to have.

"Haymitch?" She asked, lowering the bow a little bit, albeit a bit aggravated at his barging in.

"Where is it?"

"Where is what?" She asked, having no clue what he was going on about.

"The candy, Sweetheart," he replied sarcastically.

"Get your own," she said before turning to go.

"Katniss," he said, running a shaking hand through his hair.

Katniss stopped where she stood at the desperation in his voice.

"She brought him home, didn't she?" She asked, knowing all about Effie's date.

He just nodded.

Haymitch watched Katniss as she walked into the living area and opened the weapon cabinet. She grabbed an empty bag that she frequently used for arrows and pulled a bottle of white liquor out of it, handing it to Haymitch, before going back into her kitchen and grabbing two glasses and setting them on the table.

"You drinkin' again?" He asked her. Katniss had picked up his habit right after the war, and was often times giving him a run for his money when it came to the consumation and frequency of binge drinking. That was until Peeta made her stop. Well, at least they thought he had.

"You're not the only one with nightmares anymore, Haymitch."

Effie smiled uncomfortably as Perceus planted awkward kisses down her neck, his hands on her hips, not doing anything but resting there. She layed there quite tense, the thoughts of the Capitol soldiers never leaving her mind, their hands being the last to roam her body.

She began to shake.

He continued to kiss her.

"P-p-perceus?"

"Mhmm?" He muttered against her skin, not even bothering to stop trailing kisses across her collar bone.

"Stop," she mumbled.

"What?" He muttered against her skin, now moving his hands to her thighs, his kisses getting lower and lower.

The shaking became more violent and gave way to crying.

"Effie, what's wrong?" He asked, sitting up.

She brought her knees to her chest and started rocking a little, her eyes distant.

"Get Haymitch," she ordered desperately.

"Wha-?"

"HAYMITCH!" She cried exasperatedly.

He ran out the door.

"ABERNATHY!"

Haymitch peeked his head out Katniss's kitchen window to see a man running out of his house.

He got up and opened the front door.

"Who's askin'?" He yelled back.

The man ran onto Katniss's porch.

"Effie's date. She's crying, and-"

Haymitch didn't let him finish before grabbing the man's collar and rotating the two of them, throwing the man against the wall.

Katniss was soon in the doorway investigating.

"What. The. Fuck. Did you do?" Haymitch asked dangerously, the words seeping between his gritted teeth.

"Nothing, we were just... Just go to her..." The man replied shakily.

Haymitch didn't want to think about what they were doing to set Effie off, he just let go of the man and sprinted home.

The minute he was in the front door he could hear her crying and throwing things around the room upstairs. He heard what sounded like glass being shattered, soon followed by a loud sob.

He didn't hesitate before bursting through the door.

"Ef.. Ef, Effie," he said soothingly, kneeling down next to her on the debris-covered floor that she had crumpled on. Almost her entire room was demolished.

"I'm sorry I ruined your house," she sniffled out, and he almost laughed.

"Yeah, well, you should be," he replied gruffly, though it was a lie. He couldn't care any less about the state of his house right now.

She laughed shakily.

They sat there in silence for a moment, Haymitch not wanting to initiate conversation, and Effie not wanting to bother him.

"You reek, by the way," she said, breaking the silence.

"You're ugly," he shot back, knowing how insecure she was about not having makeup to wear anymore.

"You're broken," she fired back.

"So are you, you big cry baby!"

Effie could've laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

Haymitch smirked.

"I still hate you," she said, looking at him this time as she said it.

"Yeah... well, I hate you too," he said back, meeting her gaze.

"Alright..."

"As long as that's still clear, than I guess everything's fine."

"Yeah, everything's fine."

**I honestly had no idea how I was going to end this chapter, but I think I'm okay with it. Tell me what you think? **


	4. Chapter 4

**I am sorry for neglecting you, my sweet, loyal, beautiful people. I have found that I keep favoring Haymitch's POV and neglecting Effie's… This needs to stop, but I doubt it will. This chapter was kind of fun to write in comparison to the others. I'm not sure why, but, hey, I'm not complaining. **

_The world was quiet; the only sound was my own heart pounding in my chest as her fingers twisted into my hair, kissing me with passion that should be illegal. I moaned and pulled her even more against me if it was even possible, as we backed through my bedroom door and fumbled our way to the bed, clothing being dropped carelessly. We fell onto the bed, Effie on top of me, but I soon flipped us so that I was on top of her. "Haymitch," she moaned, as I slowly sucked on her neck. God, I loved that sound._

Haymitch's eyes flew open and he audibly cursed. That was the third time he dreamed about Effie like that in the past week alone.

Attempting to distract his mind, he headed downstairs, not even bothering to put on a shirt or pants, leaving him in only his boxers. He had every intention of cooking his morning away, in turn banishing any thoughts of Effie Trinket naked, romantic, or doing anything remotely dirty from his mind.

Walking into the kitchen though, he was forced to acknowledge the fact that this was not going to happen.

Effie Trinket was bustling around the kitchen covered in nothing but a thin, pink nightie and a thin, open, matching Satin robe, her hair still in big curls from the night before, without a dash of makeup on. Effie was in the mood for pancakes, big, delicious pancakes smothered in syrup, and by God she was going to get them.

She was stretching high on her tippy-toes, trying to get the pancake mix from the top shelf in one of the cabinets, when the sound of Haymitch Abernathy made her spin around from her quest.

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" He roared, causing Effie to look at him in confusion before he stormed back upstairs.

"Haymitch?" She called after him.

He didn't respond.

"Haaaymitch?" She drawled out his name, her Capitol accent intensifying as she called his name louder.

He didn't respond, but she could hear him slamming things around upstairs and she decided to head up there.

"Haymitch?" She asked, lightly knocking on his door.

He ripped it open.

"Yes, Princess?" He asked.

"Oh, uh, can you get the pancake mix down? I can't reach it."

He silently walked around her and ran down the stairs, and by the time she was in the kitchen, the mix was on the counter and Haymitch was walking back out.

She grabbed his arm and Haymitch stopped breathing, trying to control his heart rate as her voice softened.

"Haymitch, are you alright?" She asked, trying to make eye contact with him.

My God, her skin is soft, he thought.

"Yeah, I'm fine" he replied, avoiding eye contact and walking back upstairs.

The smell of pancakes wafted up the stairs, making a much compromised, and now fully clothed, Haymitch to pace.

To stay upstairs and avoid Effie or go downstairs and enjoy her delicious cooking? That was the question.

Before he could formulate a logical answer, his stomach let out a loud growl, and he drudged back down the stairs.

Effie examined Haymitch as he made his way into the kitchen.

"I made plenty, so eat up," she said, trying to hide the curiosity that was sure to come slipping out of her. Haymitch was acting so strange and she couldn't put her finger on as to why.

"Thanks," he mumbled, forking a huge pile of pancakes off of the platter and dropping them onto his plate before smothering them in syrup.

The pair ate in silence for quite a while.

"Okay, I can't stand this," Effie started, setting down her fork. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Haymitch, there is clearly something bothering you. What is it? Maybe I could help."

He shifted in his seat at the irony of her words.

"Trust me, Princess. You don't want to know."

"Yeah, last time you said that, I ended up getting tortured. So trust me, I _always _want to know," she replied, not thinking of the effects that her words could have.

Haymitch immediately went still and a chill filled the atmosphere.

"Haymitch, I-" Effie started, moving her hand towards him.

Haymitch's chair was thrown to the floor as he slammed backwards before storming out of the house.

Effie hung her head in shame.

"What, you sods? Do you want to fight?" Haymitch slurred, arching an eyebrow at the two men he had just insulted.

The two men advanced toward him angrily.

Haymitch let out a laugh when he caught the fist of the first man with his hand, before aiming a blow to his head. He then advanced on the second one, every intention on slowly beating him to a pulp.

"Haymitch! Look out!" He heard Gale yell before something hit his head from behind and he sank to the floor, everything going black.

Effie decided to wait upstairs in Haymitch's room to talk to him so that he couldn't avoid her. She alternated between hours of pacing back and forth, and sitting on his bed, eventually falling sound asleep on it. She curled up against his pillows that smelled just like him, causing her to involuntarily smile in her sleep. She didn't have a single nightmare.

Haymitch eventually stumbled into the house, held up between two unlikely allies in the task of getting him home- Peeta Mellark and Gale Hawthorne.

"Oh, are you two all kissed and made up now?" He drunkenly asked, laughing, looking between the two, causing them both to stiffen but drudge on.

"What? _Katniss_ got your tongue?" He asked, looking at Peeta, before leaning his head back and laughing extremely loudly at his own cruel joke.

"So, Haymitch. Care to tell Peeta like you told the rest of the bar how much you love- what was it that you said- 'that cruel, beautiful Capitol bitch that was living under your roof?'"

Haymitch and Peeta's eyes both snapped to Gale's.

"Don't say that about her!" Haymitch barked angrily at the same time that Peeta asked, "He said what?"

"Haymitch, you said it. Not me."

"No. No. I believe you said it. Just now. I have a witness," Haymitch slurred, nodding his head toward Peeta.

"He said what?" Peeta repeated.

"He gave this big monologue to anyone who would listen about how much he hated loving Effie," Gale filled Peeta in.

Peeta laughed outrageously.

"What? I do," Haymitch said, causing both of the younger men to laugh.

"Let's get you inside, Big Guy," Peeta said, leading Haymitch up the porch and into his house.

Haymitch stomped up the stairs alone.

"Eeeeeeeeeffie," he called, knocking on the walls, trying to wake her up and annoy her.

"Ms. Trinket, it is time to wake up!" He yelled, throwing open the door to her empty bedroom.

Effie stirred across the hall at the sound of her name.

"What the-"

"EFFIE TRINKET!" She heard Haymitch drunkenly scream.

She bounded out of his bed and threw open the door.

"Haymitch! What're you doing?"

"Looking for you. Wait a minute. What're you doing in there?"

"I was waiting for you," she replied patiently, quite used to his drunken behavior, albeit still annoyed at being woken by it. "What do you need?"

"I forget…" He drawled off, making his way toward his room.

She moved to let him around her, and turned around to see him collapse onto the bed, scooting himself up to lay down properly, all the while kicking off his shoes and attempting fruitlessly to take off his shirt.

Before she even thought about it, she was in front of him, helping him just like she had been for years.

After his shirt was removed, he laid back down. She went to stand, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back down next to him.

"Haymitch, what's wrong?" She asked, suddenly alarmed by the look of grief that was crossing his face.

"I'm so sorry," he said.

In all the years that she'd known him, Effie had never seen nor imagined this side of Haymitch.

"Haymitch, what're you talking about?" She managed to get out around her shock.

"I left you there. I left you there and they did things to you, and it's my fault, and-"

"No, no, no," she cut him off. "Haymitch. None of that was your fault."

"Yes it was. I should've made sure to get you there safely. It was part of the plan, Ef. It really was. I just couldn't get to you in time. I should've been more sober. I should've done everything differently. You should've been on that hovercraft…"

Effie's eyes were welling up with tears and she wasn't sure why, and she shifted around uncomfortably.

"Haymitch, stop," she croaked.

Haymitch's eyes snapped to hers at the sound of her voice cracking and a new expression overcame his face.

"Princess, don't cry," he said.

"What did you drink? Someone else's personality?" She joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Haymitch didn't respond and he closed his eyes. After a few minutes, Effie was convinced that he was asleep, and she slowly began to stand.

His hand tightened around hers.

"Stay with me, Ef? Please," he sounded like an exhausted, broken child.

Effie looked down at the man in front of her. They used to despise one another. They became partners in an underground revolution. He rescued her. They moved in together. They became very close friends- best friends. He protected her, watched over her. They bickered more often than not. But through it all he was her partner, her friend.

Haymitch scooted over, making room for her so she could lie down.

"Alright… Alright, I'll stay," she said, lying down.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you so much for all of the positive feedback. You guys are great. Love you all!**

Light was streaming through the window and across the wooden floor, inching its way across all of District 12. Effie smiled slightly at the warmth on her back, shifting to get even more comfortable than she already was. There was a warm mass holding her, and she snuggled more into it, not wanting to ever move away from something so inviting, so peaceful.

Her senses slowly started kicking in. Limbs… She felt limbs…

Her eyes flew open.

Haymitch was in front of her, all around her, sleeping soundly for what she was sure was the first time in a long time. She remembered last night, falling asleep in his bed while waiting for him to get home so that she could apologize, him coming home belligerently drunk, her agreeing to stay with him.

She studied the face in front of her. She rarely got to see this side of Haymitch, had maybe only seen it twice before in all the years that she'd known him. He wasn't pacing back and forth, eyebrows creased together, drink in hand, screaming and cussing about their tributes and the Capitol. He wasn't screaming insults at anyone nearby. He wasn't fighting with one hand, using his other arm to support her in President Snow's mansion. He was at peace. His eyes showed signs of aging now, small crinkles gathering around them. He had deep worry lines where his nose met his forehead, and lines were slowly beginning to form around his mouth. His hair, now darkening because of the winter, was showing streaks of grey.

Effie couldn't deny though that he was one of the most beautiful men she'd met, both physically and mentally, even if he is worn down and tormented.

Without thinking about it, she leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead.

She drew back immediately and her eyes grew wide, terrified of the line that she just crossed. Haymitch smiled in his sleep, and shifted, mumbling and falling back into peace. Effie carefully slipped out of the bed and out the door before sprinting down the stairs.

Haymitch felt something touch his face and he smelled something sweet, something he couldn't put his finger on. He shifted in his sleep and let the thought go, until he felt something move next to him, and he kept his eyes closed tight, waiting for whomever it was to sneak out. Was it some Capitol call girl that was stationed in the District? Or was it a war widow? Was it Effie? That last thought went as soon as it came. Effie Trinket wouldn't be caught dead in his bed.

He lay there, trying to collect pieces from the night before. It was blurry, his head was pounding, his body not used to that much alcohol anymore. Jesus, how much did he drink last night?

He slowly rose to the bed and forced himself to stand, making his way toward the door and downstairs, his feet dragging on the carpet. As he walked down the stairs, scenes of last night came back to him, slowly, piece by piece. He remembered drinking, drinking a lot. He remembered fighting multiple men, then trying to pick a fight with the Hawthorne boy and Mellark for trying to get him out of there. They eventually did, and he told them that he lo-

"Oh, fuck me," Haymitch swore under his breath in horror.

It all came flooding in after that, his tears, Effie's too, him asking her to stay. He held her all night without screwing her, without even trying to so much as kiss her.

_But she kissed me. This morning. It was her in my bed. _

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, running his hands through his hair before walking into the kitchen to face the day and what he was sure to be a very distant Effie Trinket.

Effie was slamming things around the kitchen, getting out eggs, bacon, butter, milk, orange juice, slapping toast into the toaster, brewing coffee. She needed to be moving. If she wasn't, she'd sit and ponder too deeply on what happened in bed with Haymitch this morning.

And last night too, at that.

Haymitch cleared his throat and she whipped around.

"Sunny-side up?" She said, forcing her fake smile to spread across her face, the one she used to use during the Games.

He just looked at her, not believing she was pulling that look and that voice on him. Especially after everything that they'd been through with the Games, the torture, the war, and everything that came after.

"Haymitch?" She asked, her face falling.

"Uh, yeah. Sunny-side up," He replied gruffly, sitting down at the table and laying his head on the cool surface.

It wasn't long before she placed a steaming cup of black coffee in front of him.

He sat up and nodded at her before taking a sip.

He choked.

"This coffee tastes like shit!" He exclaimed, looking at it as if it was poisonous.

"Excuse you!" She exclaimed, spinning around, her hands on her hips.

God, he wanted to rip that nightgown off when she looked at him like that.

_Fucking focus,_ he scolded himself.

"What? You're a horrible coffee maker!"

"Then make your own!"

"I couldn't with you running down here like a mad woman, could I?"

"Well, if you weren't such a drunk, you would've been able to wake up earlier."

He stood up.

"Well, I wouldn't have been so drunk if you hadn't been such a bitch yesterday."

"Oh, don't you dare-"

She shut up the minute Haymitch pressed his lips against hers, his whiskers scratching her face. She felt herself leaning into him.

She pushed him off of her, hands shaking.

"You can't just…" she trailed off, refusing to make eye contact.

Haymitch stared at the ground, angry at himself for doing that.

Effie looked up to see him looking down in shame. Her heart suddenly broke at having pushed him away. She took slow, tentative steps toward him. He hadn't noticed until she was literally under his nose.

"Ef?" He asked. Grey eyes met blue for a moment, before she stood on her tip toes and pressed her lips against his. She felt fire, a fire she wasn't able to feel through the complete shock of his previous actions. Her hands met his face, and they started gently, neither sure exactly as to what was happening between them. Effie pressed harder, grabbing his hair at the nape of his neck. He took it as a go-ahead. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up against him, slipping his tongue in her mouth in the process, and the two began fighting for control. It started getting heated, an inferno starting to blaze between the two of them, as he slowly backed her up against the counter, lifting her up to sit atop it. He slid his hands up her legs that she now had wrapped around him.

Effie's head was spinning. She couldn't believe her actions. She was in slight denial that she wanted him as much as she did. She couldn't even comprehend how she could manage to hate and adore this man at the same time.

His fingers grazed over a ticklish spot on her thigh and she accidently bit his lip. The response was satisfactory though. He pulled her even tighter up against him, not skipping a beat, before lifting her up and laying both of them on the floor. Effie smiled, still kissing him, feeling how hard he was getting against her. She kept one hand in his hair, raking the other one down his side, feeling instant gratification when he subconsciously pushed even harder against her at the feel of her nails on his still-bare skin. It was then that he caught on to her teasing.

He slowly inched his body further up on her, aligning himself with her entrance, pushing against her, all the while kissing her, his fingers tracing patterns up her thighs before bunching her lacey panties where they sat at her hips. She shivered at his light graces and goosebumps flew across her skin. He rocked slightly against her, and she made the mistake of letting a small moan escape. He pulled up and smirked.

"Enjoying this, Trinket?"

She was pulling him in for another kiss when the smoke alarm went off.


End file.
